


So Beautiful I Can't Resist

by oneforyourfire



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 16:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7722241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/oneforyourfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And there is something gorgeously familiar about the way things fall into place (side by side sex in an ot4)</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Beautiful I Can't Resist

It starts, as almost all things, with Sehun—his long, wandering fingers on Kyungsoo's thigh. Ever eager, ever restless, ever the initiator.

They're curled on their California king, watching a film, something foreign, artsy, boring honestly that Joonmyun had picked out, and Kyungsoo can't help but smile against Joonmyun's shoulder at Sehun’s soft, slow caress. A shiver—languid, but heavy—crawls up Kyungsoo’s spine.

Kyungsoo covers his shudder with a hum as the protagonist monologues on the screen, and Sehun's fingers drag along the inseam of his jeans, his chin hooking over Kyungsoo's shoulder, his breath rushing teasing and hot and steady over the crook of Kyungsoo’s neck. He presses closer—closer than he’s been—his knobby knees grazing the small of Kyungsoo’s spine. He hums, too, the broad expanse of his chest rumbling with it as he presses it to Kyungsoo’s back.

His fingers continue their meandering path, and Kyungsoo finds it harder and harder to focus on the film, lips parting and eyelashes fluttering as Sehun's hand skates higher and higher.

Kyungsoo is Sehun's favorite to touch, Sehun has confessed to him in the past. Small like Joonmyun, soft like him, too. But with Kyungsoo, there is thrill of the unknown, the muted, the quiet, because Kyungsoo never gives an easy reaction, because Sehun has to work for it. He’s Kyungsoo’s favorite for much the same reason. But for Sehun, it’s also the fear, the trepidation. It puts him on edge, turns him on. It’s why he always initiates. It’s why it’s almost always with Kyungsoo.

But this is almost absent, unintentional, and that makes him smile, too, shift his hips upwards so that Sehun's fingers press more firmly, blunt nails catching on the fly of his jeans. He parts his legs further, thigh brushing Tao's, Joonmyun's at his sides. In his periphery, Joonmyun's lips part, Tao's head tilts in curiosity.

Kyungsoo's fingers wrap around Sehun's wrist, guide him to press more firmly, more deliberately. At his neck, Sehun's lips part, tongue drags, breathing slightly labored.

And it continues because of Sehun's moan, less absent this time, less quiet as he grinds his cock against Kyungsoo's back. Not even remotely hard, but the movement insistent like he wants to be.

Kyungsoo decides he wants him to be, too, tilting his ass back. An invitation that Sehun readily takes.

And Kyungsoo isn't even indulging the pretext of watching the film anymore, eyes clenching shut and neck lolling back towards the warm, wet pressure of Sehun's mouth. His moan this time is louder, his shudder heavier, too. And he can feel Joonmyun’s, Tao’s eyes on him.

They abandon the pretext of watching the film then, too, Joonmyun somewhat more reluctantly, shutting off the television with some deprecating mumbled remark as a laughing Tao pulls him back to their bed.

Tao halts Joonmyun's words with his mouth, and Joonmyun kisses back readily, groaning into it. Watching, Kyungsoo spares a laugh before Sehun nuzzles against his collarbone, demands his attention.

And there is something gorgeously familiar about the way things fall into place.

The way Sehun falls into his lap, the way Joonmyun stumbles into Tao’s, the eager, perfect way that mouth finds mouth, skin finds skin, want finds want.

Suddenly, eagerly atop him, arms tangling around his neck, Sehun makes this little broken sound, and Kyungsoo leans forward to taste it, swallowing it whole as he grasps at soft, smooth skin. The kiss is dirty from the start, deep and fast, and Kyungsoo tugs at the small hairs at the base of Sehun’s skull, angling the kiss. He aims to make him moan, make him want, hold him steady as he plumbs the depths of his trembling, whimpering mouth. Kyungsoo’s tongue is insistent, fingers searching, and Sehun is more than close to hard when Kyungsoo fits a thigh between his legs.

Sehun jerks, pushes more forcefully, and Kyungsoo allows himself to be maneuvered to the younger’s liking, dragging more intently, rolling against the heavy pressure of Sehun’s cock against his thigh.

And so, so soon, Sehun is nearly mindless in his pursuit of pressure, pleasure, lost in it and already utterly graceless for it. And Kyungsoo begins to lose himself, too. He pulls away only long enough to tug off Sehun's shirt, bite briefly at the rigid column of Sehun's throat, even more briefly at at contours of his collarbone, before coming back to his mouth.

Sehun's fingers tangle in the soft cotton of Kyungsoo's Monday-night-movie t-shirt, twisting it tight, nearly painful, but he makes no move to pull it off.

He shudders instead at every touch, skin quivering beneath Kyungsoo's wandering palms. Kyungsoo lingers in his favorite places, the pucker of his nipples, the ripple of his stomach, the jut of his hipbones, the swell of his ass.

Shifting, Sehun coaxes Kyungsoo back onto the mattress. And lying back, breathless and beautiful, he spreads his legs for Kyungsoo to tug off his jeans and boxers, too, cock bouncing and face flushing when Kyungsoo tosses them at the end of the bed.

Joonmyun and Tao stop kissing, touching enough to watch, and Sehun's hands curl into fists, tangling in their floral sheets.

He'd been new to this—brand fucking new, Kyungsoo remembers, bold and brash and wanting, but ultimately shy at more than one set of eyes, more than one set of hands, more than one mouth, more than one cock on him that first night. And it shows even now, so many months later, as his knees knock together, lip catches between his teeth. Shy still, though they've all seen, touched, tasted, taken on multiple occasions, in multiple positions.

Flustered, needlessly demure, Sehun looks impossibly young and vulnerable. Beautiful, too, as the blush on his cheeks spreads to his chest, blooms to stain his ears, too. So beautiful, beautiful enough to ruin.

Peeling off his own clothes, Kyungsoo has to watch him for just a beat longer, reveling in the soft tremble of his fisted fingers, the sharp hitch of his labored breathing, the helpless dance of his fluttering eyelashes. He spares him after a moment of pure indulgence, crawling over him to mouth at his throat, tease his fingers between Sehun's thighs. He drags a dry finger down the pucker of him, a teasing brush, and Sehun moans shamelessly loud.

It's loud enough to nearly overwhelm the rustle of fabric at his side. Joonmyun, Tao at his side, moaning, peeling, touching, too.

“Your fingers, hyung,” Kyungsoo hears, a breathy rasp of a whine. “Want your fingers. Want your mouth.”

Kyungsoo hears Joonmyun groan, the slick, sloppy sound of him following through, the slicker, sloppier sound of Tao’s responding moan. The sound, the knowledge informs his arousal, his touch, and all too soon, he’s groping for lube, touching and affecting as much skin as he can.

Pinning him to the mattress, Kyungsoo crawls down Sehun’s body, fingers spreading as his mouth drags over the pulsing length of Sehun’s cock, and Sehun moans and bucks and trembles.

Kyungsoo sucks even harder, presses harder, too. And Sehun is soon reduced to the tense fists and bitten lips of someone who wants Kyungsoo to try harder, press more firmly, lick more succulently, ruin more thoroughly. Kyungsoo has never been bad at follow through, and he revels in the tremor of Sehun's thighs, the bitter musk of his pulsing cock in his mouth.

“Touch me, hyung,” Tao is pleading. “Please, please, hyung.”

And Sehun is almost pleading, too, asking around a hiss for Kyungsoo to add another finger, please, hyung, please, to curl just like that, it feels so fucking _good_.

Sehun, always desperate for affection, for acknowledgement when he gets like this, gropes out for Tao's hand, squeezing tight as he breathes and moans past the stretch.

Tao is being stretched, too, the veins and muscles beneath his golden skin bunching and relaxing as he squeezes and releases, moans openly for more.

Tao had been first—their first, a pretty boy they'd found at a college bar, entirely too bold and entirely too eager, his hands so disconcertingly comfortable on Joonmyun’s ass, his face pressed hot and close and familiar to his neck. Tao had hardly raised an eyebrow when Kyungsoo had wrapped a possessive, testing arm around his waist. No, Tao's words has been airy, sinful, pressed to the corner of Joonmyun's mouth, but loud enough for Kyungsoo to hear, too.

"Am I invited, too?"

They hadn’t been his first, but they’d been the ones that he wanted to keep as they'd wanted to keep him.

And Joonmyun had liked—likes—Tao for his pliance, for his beautifully ruined submission, for the husky despair in his every helplessly needy response, the glaze-eyed insistence of his every touch. He fell apart so beautifully, so easily, so willingly, and Joonmyun had been irrevocably hooked on it—him, them together. Kyungsoo had liked that, too, yearned for that, too. A partner that bent, that begged, that utterly burned for approval.

But oh, Kyungsoo, he likes Sehun for his irreverence, for insubordination. Sehun is not nearly as easy, not nearly as pliant, and Kyungsoo has to work harder to tear him apart, has to thrust deeper, pull tighter, touch firmer to make him cry.

Kyungsoo's learned. Joonmyun has, too.

He puts this knowledge to use in the present, focused on the task at hand.

A heavy tremor wracks through Sehun's body as Kyungsoo's fingers drag insistent—mean—over his prostate. But no, he still won't beg. No, he bites his lips nearly white from suppressing the urge as Kyungsoo crawls over his body, teases his cock against the trembling pucker of his entrance.

Kyungsoo drags Sehun hip-first, positioning him properly before sliding inside.

And as he presses deep, he can feel the weight of Joonmyun's, Tao's eyes on him. Their gaze is as heavy, as hot as Sehun's desperate fingers at Kyungsoo's shoulders as he presses forward, slow, slow, slow, bottoming out with a heavy tremor in his hands, a heavier moan spilling from his lips.

It's hotter like this sometimes, Kyungsoo knows, watching the other ruin someone else, appreciating the ripple of muscles beneath skin, the dance of light across taut skin, the furrowed eyebrows and slack jaws and fluid fucks of dark, dark pleasure—from afar.

Heat—further heat—floods Kyungsoo's veins as Joonmyun licks his lips absently in appreciation.

And he's pressing inside of Tao, too, a heavy heat by his side.

Sehun's head pitches back sharply as Kyungsoo bottoms out, retreat, pushes inside anew. Panting, Sehun's neck twists with a heavy moan. Tao turns, too, sobbing out a broken _hyung, right there_. And the kiss they share is clumsy, wet, loud, both moaning into it, as they whimper and writhe.

Kyungsoo has watched them together, too, captivated by the tangle of long limbs, the chorus of long moans. Seen the beauty in that, too.

Now, as usual, too caught up in the pleasure, they only manage to hold the kiss for a half dozen more thrusts before panting, twisting sharply away.

Joonmyun's chin crashes against his collarbone with a ruined rasp, and he fucks harder, faster.

He’s cradling Tao still as he does it, and Kyungsoo’s cock gives a sympathetic jerk, as he recalls the heady mix of whisper-soft caresses and achingly gentle kisses with deep devastating thrusts.

Tao melts into the touch at his cheekbone, fucks down onto the hard press of Joonmyun’s hips at his ass, and Kyungsoo fucks forward again, sloopy and instinctual. Sehun whimpers into his throat, fingers scrambling for more skin, body clenching impossibly tight around him.

He's so slick, so warm, so receptive, and Kyungsoo finds himself groaning after every thrust, too, melting into Sehun's sharp bones, quivering limbs.

Sehun's body is long and limber as he writhes back towards every fuck, and his pants devolve into breathy whimpers, his eyelashes fluttering, lips trembling so prettily. He is most captivating like this—with a cock in his ass—and Kyungsoo lets his fingers drag down the flushed velvet of his skin, reveling in the experience, the entirety of him, the sound and look and feel of him. He bends down to mouth at his jawline, his throat, his collarbone.

"Hyung," Sehun says, and it almost sounds like a plea, frayed and shaky and so deliciously wanting. His eyes are shining with tears, his lips trembling with it, too.

At his side, Kyungsoo hears Tao's whimper, Joonmyun's shaky groan. And at his side, Joonmyun is working at fucking Tao wrecked. He has Tao's knees hooked over his shoulders, Tao’s cock in his fist, his name rough and ruined as it rolls off Tao’s tongue.

Kyungsoo is just briefly enraptured.

Kyungsoo remembers the last time he fucked Tao's mouth while Joonmyun thrust into his ass. He remembers muffling those reedy moans with his cock, how they will somehow slipped out as sloppy as the saliva coating his lips spilling onto his chin, intermingling with the soft, ruined cries of Sehun's pleasure as he'd pressed into Tao's fist.

"We're using you to feel good," Joonmyun had groaned against Tao's flushed chest. "You make us feel so good. You know that, don't you?"

And oh, it had been messy and needy, but Kyungsoo had liked the intimacy of it, the chaos of need and desperation.

He aches for it even now, balls deep in Sehun's perfect, willing body.

Wanting, indulging, Kyungsoo lets himself touch Tao now, too, fingers dragging over his ruddy kiss-swollen lips.

So loud, Kyungsoo rationalizes, he’s so loud. Loud enough to need muffling.

And Tao suckles Kyungsoo’s fingers readily into his mouth, moaning exactly as heavy, exactly as needy as he had that night, as he does every time Kyungsoo touches him. Glazed eye meets glazed eye, moment of heated exchange as they both seek pleasure in other's bodies.

There's something about Tao that is Kyungsoo's favorite, too.

But Sehun whines for him, then, soft and vulnerable and needy, an imploring _hyung, hyung, please_. His soft fingers are clumsy, desperate on his chin. And oh yes, Sehun is too beautiful for Kyungsoo too look away then. Lips plush and parted, eyes clenched shut with pleasure, body taut with tension, lean muscles quivering the closer he gets.

"Sehun," Kyungsoo rasps, and for some reason Tao moans, too. "Sehunnie, look at me. Look at hyung."

Sehun's sleepy eyes are fluttering open, beautiful and oh so heavy with pleasure as Kyungsoo fucks into him again and again, intent on leaving him all the more ruined, overwhelming him with pleasure.

He’s so close, Kyungsoo can read it in the tremble of his thighs, the dazed want in his sleepy eyes.

Tao sobs brokenly, shattering the moment, informing it with something harder, heavier, hotter. And Tao, between shaky pants, sloppy kisses, helpless jerks, is begging to come. To be allowed to come. A chorus of shaky pleas falling from his ruddy, parted lips.

Sehun doesn't beg to come like Tao does. At least not with him. He communicates the desire instead with blunt, skittering fingernails, hitching wordless sobs, helpless clenches of his lower body.

Sweat glistens as it trickles down the flushed column of his throat, and Kyungsoo presses forward harder to taste it, smiling into his skin as Sehun whimpers.

"You can," Kyungsoo hears Joonmyun groan, then Tao's high, high moan of completion. So loud, so long, so forceful, he flails out for Sehun, squeezing his hand as he arches and moans.

Kyungsoo knows by Joonmyun's stuttering fucks, sudden sharp moan, that he's come, too.

Sticky, sated, Joonmyun and Tao both twist to turn their attention on Sehun, who is far gone enough to not protest, but somehow still lucid, present though to flush and whimper. He fucks into Joonmyun's fist, pulling helplessly at his hair as he moves, sobs.

Shy, proud, in a way, Sehun tries harder to keep his composure, wants always for Tao to cry first, beg first, come first, but he always falls all the same, trembles and whimpers as he comes all the same, too, a dozen strokes in.

And that's all it takes for Kyungsoo to come, too. The vision of a wrecked Sehun swimming behind his eyelids as the pleasure saturates every pore.

And though it hadn't started that way, it ends in a sweaty tangle of limbs, breathless laughs.

It ends also with Sehun. His sleepy sigh mingling with Tao's sleepier moan, the two of them entwining in the middle of the mattress, leaving Joonmyun and Kyungsoo to crawl around them, clean them up.

They always manage to pass out almost immediately after orgasm. Utterly wrecked and useless with satiation. Kyungsoo and Joonmyun have found it’s best not to rouse them, to instead maneuver them out of the way and cuddle beside them.

And Kyungsoo does not like to ask for it out loud, but Joonmyun already knows, curling up beside him, nuzzling into him languid and loving.

He's disheveled and all the more handsome for it. And his  
hands are already dragging over his skin, warm and soft, the lingering sort of exploration of afterglow.

Kyungsoo turns to give him more skin to work with, smiles as Joonmyun's lips flutter over the moles dotting his skin. He stamps loudly over every one, huffing out a laugh when Kyungsoo squirms.

The touch is familiar—achingly so—but it still makes his skin suffuse with heat, his heart fill to nearly brimming with a heavy, bone-deep affection.

For so long it had been just them, and often, it ends with just them, too, entwined like this, lax and loose-limbed in the afterglow.

Joonmyun whispers that he loves him, presses it right to the mole on Kyungsoo's ear, and Kyungsoo melts into the hot caress, fingers threading with Joonmyun's as he whispers it back.

**Author's Note:**

> another lj comm crosspost


End file.
